


His heart burns cold

by em1985



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Denial, Drarry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Night Terrors, POV Draco Malfoy, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Self-Harm, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-06-27 22:38:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19799176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/em1985/pseuds/em1985
Summary: Shortly after Draco Malfoy lost his wife, Astoria, he sank into a state of depression. After dropping off Scorpius for his third year at Hogwarts; he found himself living alone in the Malfoy Manor. Running into Harry Potter at the worst and inconvenient times didn't help matters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story begins in September, 2019.

It was unnaturally cold for early September. Draco stood with his son Scorpius alone on platform 9 ¾ quarters readying him for his third year. It was the first time he was seeing off his son without his late wife Astoria. He found it bittersweet for he missed her desperately and he knew Scorpius did too. He had done his best to stay strong for the sake of his son but compartmentalizing his emotions was a challenge, even for someone as skilled at it as he was. 

Many nights he found himself alone in his bed at the Malfoy Manor staring at the ceiling, sleep evading him until he downed Sleeping Draught potion. He hadn’t grown accustomed to sleeping alone since her death. An icy barrier built a border around his heart, leaving him numb and empty despite desperately trying to be a good father to Scorpius. He was all he had left so it was the only thing that mattered. 

Now that it was time to see him off to Hogwarts; he foresaw many nights with the bottle and an empty home. Without Scorpius he was going to truly be alone in the world.

He glanced down at Scorpius with a proud smile. He was the only one who ignited one these days. “Right. Be on your best behavior, now. Don’t let Albus talk you into any sort of trouble.” He knew how his son’s best friend could be. He was a Potter, after all. 

Scorpius glanced up at his dad with grey eyes that appeared darkened like a storm cloud. It matched the melancholy features of his angular face. “I won’t, dad. I’ll keep him in line.” He managed a weak smile.

Draco became acutely aware that it was more for his sake than anything else.

“Good. I love you son. Your mother would be so proud if she was here.” Draco stated softly, with a forced smile of his own.

“I know.” Scorpius sadly stated. 

Draco reached out to hug his son tighter than he ever had before. Scorpius clung to his father in a way that made it seem like he didn’t want to go. A part of Draco wanted to selfishly keep him home but he knew that it wasn’t what Astoria would have wanted. She wanted them to move on and find happiness. It was her dying wish.

After they parted from the hug, Scorpius sent his father a genuine smile. “I love you dad. Don’t worry about me.” He reassured him. 

“Quite the impossible task but I will try not to.” Draco said with a hint of humour in his tone. 

Scorpius sent his father one last meaningful look and then went off toward his best friend, Albus Potter. It was ironic, given his own time at Hogwarts. Then again, Potter’s kid was sorted into Slytherin. It was a shock to the world that still seemed fixated on “the chosen one”. Draco found he didn’t envy him the way he did while they were at school.

Harry Potter and his wife, Ginny was a short way down with their own brood. Ron and Hermione joined them as well. They were loud, boisterous, and happy as ever. Perhaps a little bit of envy remained. He watched his son chatting with Albus. Scorpius was far more withdrawn than he used to be but Albus was quick to make him laugh again. He was relieved he had such a loyal friend. He wondered briefly how things might have been different if he had that sort of friendship while at Hogwarts. It was a pointless wonder.

He watched as the children said their goodbyes to their parents and one by one hurried into the wall. Scorpius sent a final wave before disappearing for another year at Hogwarts. 

Once gone, Draco turned, hesitant to leave the noise of the platform into his large, empty manor. He caught the intent gaze of Harry Potter himself and froze. Although they were no longer enemies; they were not friends. He suppressed a scowl at the dreaded look of pity written all over his features. Potter was never good at hiding what he was feeling. He loathed the pitiful glances from others more than anything else. Somehow, though, it was worse coming from him. 

Draco could feel the other man taking in his gaunt features, the dark circles under his eyes, and the grayish tint to his skin. Draco was all too aware now of his wrinkled robes and limp laying white blond locks messily wrapped in a loose ponytail. It was a far cry from his once immaculate appearance.

Potter, on the other hand, was well groomed. He was wearing a well-fitted red jumper that showed off his fit, filled out physique, neatly pressed robes, and black trousers. His hair was less unruly than he remembered as well. He expected the changes was Ginny’s doing.

Draco turned away, realizing he was still staring at the other man. What lunacy that he still created such a bitter taste in his mouth after all this time. He shook his head as he started to stride away and Apparate home.

“Draco, wait!” A familiar voice cut into his ears like nails on a chalkboard. 

Nonetheless, he stopped and turned. “Hello Potter.” He spoke in a neutral tone.

Potter sent him a boyish grin. “You can call me Harry now, you know, Draco.” He teased.

Draco’s brows perked slightly. “Right. Force of habit.” He said curtly, though not impolitely. 

Potter furrowed his brows as though he was trying to gather what he wanted to say. _For once_. He couldn’t help but think.

“Draco—I just wanted to say how sorry I am—we all are for your loss. I can’t imagine what you must be going through.” He had that irritating look of pity written all over his face again.

“Thank you.” Draco said simply as he pushed down waves of fury.

“Look—we are all going out to lunch just now. Do you want to join us?” Potter invited. 

Draco suppressed feelings of humiliation and outrage. “Just because our children are friends, it does not mean we have to be.” He dryly stated. “Excuse me.” Before Potter could open his mouth again, he strode away and Disapparated home.

Once home he went to his study and sat at his desk that was covered with Alchemical manuscripts. He stared at the pages blankly. He could have sworn he spotted a deflated look on Potter’s face as he turned away. Draco quickly wrote it off as pity. 

Draco had no idea how much time passed before the rumble of his stomach grasped hold of him. He glanced at the clock on the wall. _8:00 P.M._

He pulled himself out of the chair and headed to the kitchen and fixed himself a salad. He and Astoria had decided to send their house elves to Hogwarts shortly after Scorpius was born. They didn’t want their son to be spoiled by the way they both had been. It greatly upset his parents but Draco and Astoria remained adamant in their decision. Draco missed having them. He sat at their large dining table and picked at the small salad. Astoria was a great cook and he ate her meals with a fervor he was never allowed to have as a child. Astoria playfully teased him when he started to become a bit rounded in the middle. 

His ribs showed now and the angular features of his face were sharper. If Scorpius noticed he said nothing of it. He tried to make him laugh instead. Scorpius was far more like his mother. Draco got up from the table and fetched a bottle of rum. He opened it with a wordless spell, wrapped his lips around it and took a large gulp of it. Muggles, he had to admit, had excellent taste in alcoholic beverages.

Draco awoke the next morning on the couch, his head throbbing. He curled over onto his side and reached to grab the hangover potion he put on the coffee table. His head whirled as he tipped his head back slightly and downed it quickly.

He placed it back on the table and then grabbed the rum bottle beside it. He downed a hearty gulp of it. After a few moments the potion kicked in and he was able to sit up again. He reached for the rum bottle and downed the rest of it. He sat the empty bottle back on the table and ran his fingers through his stringy blonde hair.

The eeriness of the silence put him on edge. It was unnatural and irksome. He stood to grab another bottle of rum. _At least I have alcohol._ He thought to himself. He didn’t have to hide his drinking nor did he have to refrain from getting drunk like he did when Scorpius was home.

When his son was around, he always drank just enough to dull down the ache that resided in his heart. Now he was freed from the restraints of sobriety. He opened the bottle and raised it to no one in particular.

“Cheers.” He said sourly into the silence and succumbed to his alcoholic state.


	2. Chapter 2

Days turned into weeks and then months. Draco all but lost track of time. By November the air had turned cold throughout England but there was no greater chill than the one that settled in Draco’s heart. He abandoned his studies as they became meaningless to him. He spent his time at home in a drunken state. He paid little heed to much else.

He was amidst his morning hangover ritual when his father Apparated into the Malfoy Manor. Draco groaned at the sound of the popping noise. “Uggh.”

Draco glanced up at his father as he hovered over him. His nose was upturned as he glanced around in disapproval.

“Draco Malfoy. How dare you leave this place in such disarray. I am ordering the house elves to return at once!” He hissed out.

“Hello father.” Draco croaked out in reply.

“This is absurd. You are a grown man of nearly forty. This is a disgrace to our family name. If anyone found out...well I’m afraid not even the loss of Astoria will help our reputation.” He continued, the disgust in his tone clear. Despite appearing quite peaked; he was intimidating.

“I don’t give a shit about your precious reputation.” Draco scowled as he spoke.

Didn’t his father realize that more people than not blamed him for Astoria’s death? He had even heard some whisper that he killed her himself.

Lucius took a few steps forward, his eyes ablaze. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner! I don’t care how old you are; you will regard me with respect.” He spat out.

Draco glared at his father angrily, the angles in his features becoming more prominent. He was about to pour more rum down his gullet but it was quickly snatched by his father.

“No more of this now. Get up, shower, and show you are still a civilized member of this family. You have a date tonight at 7:30 P.M. at The Salazar’s Palace. It is time you remarry. Malfoys do not die hapless bachelors.” Without another word Lucius Disapparated, leaving a stunned Draco alone once again.

As promised, by early afternoon a house-elf was delivered to the Malfoy Manor. Crystal was a rather thin house-elf. It didn’t seem like she willingly ate much on her own. She wore a permanent scowl of disapproval and beady little eyes that made it look like she was constantly squinting. She took to cleaning up the mess that was the Malfoy Manor immediately. Even though he and Astoria was against having a house-elf; he was thankful for the company, regardless of how forced it was.

Draco dressed himself in his best robes and used various charms and potions to revive his hair to its former glory. He used a glamour spell to get rid of the dark circles hanging beneath his eyes and refurbish the discoloration of his skin. As he gazed into the mirror; he had to admit that he looked quite handsome, even if the robes hung on his skeletal frame.

He arrived at the restaurant at 7:15 P.M. Lucius hadn’t further contacted him and Draco didn’t bother to ask her name or what she looked like. He figured that everything down to his table was prearranged. He was about to enter the establishment when he spotted a pub across the street. _I have time to pop in._ He reasoned with himself. After all, he was nervous. This sort of affair was highly esteemed in the Malfoy family and he couldn’t let things like mourning and loss get in the way of that. According to his father, anyway.

Draco had no idea why he was doing this. He and Astoria had consistently defied them. She encouraged him to pave his own path once and for all. He had no intention of ever loving another person the way he had loved Astoria. 

It was, in the end, a momentary distraction from his dissent into alcoholic oblivion. He sighed slightly as he rid himself of the glamour spell and headed across the street to the Hammer Head pub.

It was nothing fancy, not like the overpriced restaurant just across the way. It was far from seedy, though. He felt eyes on him as soon as he entered. The noise of the pub reduced to whispers. 

_"He was a Death Eater.”_

_“His wife died; did you hear?”_

_“...bet he killed her.”_

Draco put on his best sneer to hide the panic that made his heart thump out of his chest into his throat, turned and hurried out of the pub. Once outside, he stared once again at the restaurant. He considered meeting the woman that his parents proudly picked out and then shook his head. He Disapparated away, never looking back.

He Apparated into muggle London. At least here he was anonymous. He pulled off his dress robes and tossed them into the wet pavement as though it was garbage. He let out a high-pitched hysterical laugh at his rebellious display. He found a seedy bar called, “The Rump”. He shook his head at the oddity of muggles and stepped inside.

He always found muggle bars to be a bit odd but this one took the cake. There was an assortment of men and women in the bar but they didn’t seem to mingle with each other. Was this some sort of gender segregation type bar? He couldn’t fathom any of it. 

He approached the bar and flagged down the bartender. “Shot of whiskey.” His voice was hoarse and his hands trembled with sobriety.

The male bartender was tall with leather pants and a black, strangely netted shirt. It looked like he was wearing eyeliner and black lipstick. His black hair was cut short except for one chunk that was parted to one side. It was almost entirely covering his eye.

“Sure, honey.” He said in a silky voice.

Draco realized he hadn’t any muggle money on him. “Salazar help me.” He grumbled to himself.

“I don’t think he can help you here.” A familiar voice behind him said.

He turned quickly, his eyes locking on no other than Harry Potter. _Of course, he would be present for my humiliation._ He thought darkly to himself.

“Hello, Potter.” He forced out, unable to keep a smidgen of animosity out of his voice.

“Hello Draco.” He replied as though oblivious to Draco’s contempt.

“What in Salazar’s name are you doing here?” Draco blurted out. “Did you follow me?” It’s not like it would be the first time.

Harry let out choked laughter. “Merlin, no. I was about to ask you why you were here…” He trailed off, studying Draco in wonder.

Draco remained still, calculating his next move. The bartender interrupted. “Um are you going to pay or what?” He asked, a snarky edge to his voice. 

Draco's face turned a deep crimson as he turned, opening his mouth to somehow explain the mishap, when Potter spoke up. “Of course he is. I got this round.” He said in a chipper tone that made Draco scowl.

“I didn’t need you to rescue me.” _Again._ Draco snapped.

Potter just shook his head. “In some ways you really have not changed.” He pointed out.

“What are you doing here?” Draco demanded.

“Hook up with men and drink myself into oblivion.” Potter stated without a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

Draco gaped at him incredulously. _What in Salazar’s name?_ Then he peered around closer at the patrons of the bar. The men weren’t just standing with other men, they were with other men. He turned back to Potter with a curious, accusatory gaze.

“You are married.” He breathed out.

“Not anymore. The divorce was just finalized.” Potter spoke with saddened relief that baffled Draco.

“Oh. Did it end because you’re...ah gay?” Draco inquired curiously.

Potter frowned. “Well, no, actually. Ginny and I were never a great match. We married when the world seemed like it was ending and then stayed together for the kids.” He admitted. “I’m bisexual but it had nothing to do with preferences. Ginny is wonderful but it was not meant to be.” He studied Draco in an inquisitive manner that he did not like.

“I’m not gay or bisexual. I had no idea this was a gay bar.” Draco spat at him venomously. 

Potter held his hands up in surrender. “OK, Draco. Settle down. I wasn’t questioning you. Have a drink on me and…get some rest.” His eyes seemed to study Draco’s disheveled appearance for the first time. 

His brows furrowed as he seemed to realize that Draco was not wearing robes over his green jumper and black trousers ensemble. 

Draco turned and grabbed the shot sitting on the counter, ignoring the nosy gaze of the bartender, and downed it quickly. “I am sorry about your divorce.” He quickly stated. “Later Potter.” He added as he headed for the door.

 _This was a mistake. It was all a mistake._ He longed for the sanctuary of his self-proclaimed seclusion. 

“Wait...wait...Draco!” He ignored it despite his urge to stop for reasons unbeknownst to him.

The bitter cold reached his cheeks quickly as he stepped outside. He jerked around as a hand touched his shoulder. Potter stood there with a look of what he was certain was pity. He could feel old hatred creeping up despite previously letting bygones be bygones. Why did he insist on prying on his life?

“What do you want, Potter?” The way he spat out his name was reminiscent of old times.

“Just...don’t go.” Potter pleaded.

Draco perked a brow as he stared at his former arch nemesis. Potter was as fit as ever but there was a sadness in is gaze, he hadn’t remembered when he last saw him in September. _Or maybe I hadn’t noticed._

His broad shoulders were slouched in an unbecoming way and his hands were shoved in his pockets in a disarming way. Draco let out a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose irritably.

“OK Potter, but not at _that_ bar.” He shook his head slightly.

“Pick up homophobia instead of elitist pure blood discrimination?” Potter retorted with a smirk.

“Your sense of humour is a disaster as always.” Draco replied dryly. “No, of course not. That place was seedy. I can’t imagine why the Chosen One would choose that bar of all places.” Draco scrunched up his nose in disgust.

“I...might of saw you walk in and followed.” Potter said after a moment, with a sheepish grin. Draco could have sworn his face turned a few shades red.

“So, you are stalking me.” Draco said flatly, devoid of surprise.

“I--I was curious! I mean, it is...odd.” Potter looked flustered.

Draco’s mouth curled upward in bemusement. “Hopeful you mean.” He teased him. “I should have seen it before. The great Chosen One secretly in love with a former Death Eater. Think of the scandal.” Draco spoke more animatedly than he had in ages. He could have sworn Potter was blushing.

“No--I--course not!” He spoke louder than necessary.

Draco took pride in the fact that he got the other man worked up. “Denial is unbecoming, Potter.” He responded dryly.

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Potter irritably replied.

“So. Another bar then. One that is respectable. I expect you are paying. I do not have any muggle money on me.” Draco smirked.

Potter relaxed slightly. “On one condition. Call me Harry.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Unlikely.” His grey eyes flickered with some of his old mischievousness.

Potter let out a snort. “Stubborn as always.” He murmured. “I know just the place.” 

They walked side by side in silence in the bitter cold. Draco wondered why he didn’t just Apparate them nearby. No one was around. Finally, they reached the entrance to a building with a large sign with a cup of coffee and the name Lula’s lit across it. When they entered, Draco realized it was a coffee shop.

“This isn’t a bar.” He pointed out irritably. His fingers twitched for more alcohol.

“Oh, you noticed.” Potter remarked humourlessly.

“Seriously, Potter. This isn’t what we agreed upon.” Draco hissed between his gritted teeth.

“I think it would do you well to drink a cup of coffee and eat a sandwich. You are deathly thin.” He said evenly.

Draco grunted, “Who are you, my mum?” He spat.

Potter turned to him with a frown, “No, Draco. You just look hungry.” He replied.

Draco sighed, “Fine. But then alcohol.” He hated how he sounded but if his trembling hands were any indication; he was in dire need of some more. The fact that it was from hunger didn’t cross his mind.

Darkness crept over Potter’s features and then faded just as quickly. His intense green eyes fixated on Draco’s hands and then met his gaze. He looked like he was about to say something and then thought better of it. 

“Let’s order.” Potter stated instead.

Draco decided on a ham and cheese sandwich on a croissant and tea while Potter ordered a bacon and tomato sandwich. It sounded utterly appalling. Worst of all, he ordered something called a cappuccino. It looked abysmal. After Potter paid for everything they sat down with their drinks and waited for their food.

They sat in agonizing silence for several moments. Draco concentrated on his tea. It tasted different but not in a bad way.

“Why do you care whether I eat or not, Potter?” Draco spat out, finally breaking the tantalizing silence. 

Potter pursed his lips as though he was choosing his response carefully. “You obviously need someone to look after you.”

Draco glowered at him, fuming. “Here to save me, Potter? Another one of your hero deeds, am I?” He started to stand, outraged by the notion. He wasn’t going to be further in debt to the man.

Potter stared at him with wide eyes and then glared back at him. “No, you git. I know what loss is like and I just—-” He trailed off as though he was at a loss for words. 

Draco’s expression softened and he plopped back down in his seat. He knew Potter’s like was not without significant loss. He didn’t understand why he felt that his own loss was of any concern of his. What did he care if he, a former Death Eater, suffered? There was something to be said about karma, after all. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the food arriving in front of them. 

“Tuck in.” Potter muttered.

Draco stared at him, aghast. It reminded him of—well he needn’t go there. He stared down at his sandwich a long moment before picking it up and quickly consumed it. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until that moment.

After he finished, he wiped his hands on the napkin, narrowly stopping himself from performing a cleaning spell in the middle of a muggle establishment. He drank his tea and reflected on the absurdity of the situation. Here he was in a muggle cafe with the golden boy eating and drinking tea like this was a normal occurrence. He dared not venture into what his parents would think.

Potter ate slowly, savoring every bite. It was quite a contrast from when they were in school and he ate like a half-starved animal. He was slightly impressed, though he would never admit that out loud.

“Let’s play a game.” Potter spoke up after wiping his own hands in an actual civilized manner.

Draco perked a brow, “In the middle of a muggle cafe? Are you daft?” He replied incredulously. “And you promised alcohol.” He added with an air of contempt.

Potter smirked, apparently amused by his objection. “Not suggesting Quidditch or anything. And yes, a drink will be had after you finish your tea.” He casually pointed to his cup.

Draco hesitated. He could still leave and Apparate home to drink. It was probably what Potter was secretly hoping for. No. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He ignored the part of him that simply didn’t _want_ to leave.

“Fine. What is this game?” Draco asked, exasperated.

“It’s called five questions. We ask each other five questions and if one fails to do so they have to complete a dare requested by the person.” Potter explained with a glint of mischief in his gaze.

Draco scuffed. “You made that up.” He retorted, glaring at him. He couldn’t figure out the other man’s motive.

Potter simply smiled. “Scared, Malfoy?” He asked in a mocking tone.

“You wish.” Draco growled out, trying to suppress a grin at the momentary role reversal.

“OK then. I’ll go first, then.” Potter stated. “Why were you dressed nice in muggle London and heading into a seedy bar?” He asked.

Draco suppressed a snarl. He was already nearing his last nerve. He almost told him to sod off but there was a challenging look in his eyes.

“My father arranged a date with a woman because _Malfoys don’t die hapless bachelors_.” He mockingly imitated his father to a tee, causing Potter to nearly spit out his awful looking coffee concoction. “Think my life is funny, do you?” Draco spat out.

Potter shook his head. “No. The imitation...too much. Continue.” He said between sniggers.

Draco rolled his eyes at him. “I almost went in but couldn’t bear the thought of it all and left.” He contemplated mentioning the wizard bar but he couldn’t bear another look of pity. “I decided I’d rather deal with Muggles than some Pureblood princess my parents picked out.” He finished with a scowl.

A look of fury crossed Potter’s features and then dissipated. Draco sent him an uncertain look. What was _he_ mad about? 

“Merlin, that is fucked up.” Potter finally replied. “It hasn’t even been that long since—-” He had the sense to cut himself off there.

Draco spoke up, not wanting to speak of it anymore. “Why in Salazar’s name are you really hanging with me and asking about my life? What is your angle if you aren’t on some hero trip?” He asked abruptly.

Potter frowned, taking time to quickly answer. “I…” he faltered for a moment. “You deserve more kindness than you receive and like I said I know what loss is like.” He stated.

Draco let out a derisive snort. “That’s hardly an answer, Potter. Not to mention a boldfaced lie. I can understand knowing loss but I think we both know you don’t really care about the well-being of a former Death Eater.” 

Potter sighed in obvious exasperation. “Merlin’s beard, you are impossible.” 

Draco nearly smirked. “Right. Well now that we have cleared that up. I will take my leave.” He stood to his feet. He didn’t care about this foolish game. What were they, eleven? He would drink in his home, after all. He turned toward the door to leave.

“Draco…” Potter was starting but he already was out the door into the frigid cold and Apparated home.

Upon his arrival he was already grabbing the bottle of rum, grumbling to himself. Even the House elf knew not to bother him in this state.

“How dare he stalk me like when we were children and ask me personal questions and pretend to give a shit about my life! He has some nerve!” He paced, bottle in hand. He stopped every so often and took a hearty drink. 

“Bloody Potter!” He cursed loudly and then resided himself to the couch. 

Gulp after gulp he drank down the fury burning inside of him.

 _Stupid bloody handsome Potter. He must be quite lonely to bother with me._ He drunkenly thought before passing out.


	3. Chapter 3

Christmas holiday was approaching when he received the owl from his mother detailing that his father passed away. She made sure to inform him that it was his fault since he soured any chance of being with a “perfectly lovely pure-blood with the _right_ view of things”. He let out a derisive snort at the audacity of his mother. They were once close but now it seemed she held a bitterness toward him because he was no longer the son that obeyed their every whim.

The service was small and quiet. It was not the Malfoy way. Normally, even in death, the event was extravagant. Despite being pardoned of their crimes after the war; the Wizarding World thought fairly little of their family. Most had separated from them entirely, especially if they had family members in Azkaban because of the information given that allowed their pardon. The Slytherins he hung around with at Hogwarts recoiled quickly, fearing the tarnishing of their own reputations.

Draco was conflicted about the passing of his father. He cared in the obligatory familial sense but as far as him as his father, his heart hardened into ice. In the end his father proved to care more about their reputation than his own son’s well-being. It was pathetic and abominable. 

His mother stood beside him by the coffin of his father. Her dark veil covered her tear stained face. Draco stood as stiff as a statue in his immaculate dress robes and glamour charms to hide his deteriorating state. He stared forward with an expression of stony indifference. Out of the corner of his eye he could have sworn he saw a familiar messy mop if dark hair.

He turned his head slightly, his eyes widening at the presence of Potter. _What in Merlin’s name is he doing here?_ He thought irritably. Was he going to mock them for their loss? Express his hate for the man? 

He glanced away, quickly fixating his gaze on the coffin. He did not want to risk eye contact with the Head Auror. He was the last person he wanted to speak to today. He was spared a few moments of relief before feeling a looming presence. He turned his head. To his horror, Potter stood directly in front of him.

Draco locked his icy grey eyes onto the other man. “What do you want, Potter?” He spat out. He unfortunately failed to hide the slurred speech.

Potter was irritatingly unaffected by his greeting. His emerald gaze bore into his own. “I came to tell you I’m sorry for your loss.” He said simply.

He all but rolled his eyes. “Really. You are sorry the former Death Eater is gone?” Draco drawled out coolly.

Potter hesitated. “He was a terrible man and father but he did help the Ministry in the end. I am sorrier for you that you experienced more loss.” He explained finally.

Draco thought he saw a fleeting flicker of worry cross his features but chocked it off as his imagination. _Why would he care?_

Draco’s mother turned her head now toward the two of them. “Get out of here. Get out if you have any respect at all.” She hissed at him.

Draco could see the fire in her gaze and the seething of her nostrils without looking.

Potter’s face reddened considerably, sputtering ridiculous incoherent babble before gathering himself again. “Mrs. Malfoy, I wanted to extend my...”

“Enough!” She spoke loud enough that the few other attendants went quiet and turned their head toward them. 

She seemed to realize this and cleared her throat. “Draco please show this man out. I believe he has grieved enough.” She said simply with a hand wave of dismissal.

The room filled with whispers. Draco was sure this would end up in the Daily Prophet. “Yes mother.” He said simply.

He sent Potter a warning look that he had better heed her advice and started to stride toward the door, swaying a bit as he walked. Potter had the good sense to follow. Once outside Draco turned to him, his face flushed with anger. 

“How dare you show up here? What were you thinking? Did you think that just because you are the saviour of the universe that you would be welcome here with open arms?” He demanded.

Potter faltered, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure how else to see you.” He admitted softly.

Draco gaped at him incredulously. “Why in Salazar’s name did you want to see me?” 

“You looked awful last time I saw you and you seem…” He began meekly. If he noticed Draco’s inebriation, he did not bring it up.

“Decided I’m your little pet project, did you Potter?” Draco cut him off.

Potter’s jaw slacked slightly for a few moments and then closed it, his jaw setting beneath gritted teeth. “No, you git. Never mind.” He shook his head slightly. “Albus says you insisted Scorpius stay at school for winter break. Is that such a good idea? He needs you.” He continued after a few moments.

Draco narrowed his gaze, “Yes I did so that he didn’t have to deal with the seclusion of our home because of the Daily Prophet hounding us any time we leave the premises! Not that I need to explain my reasonings to you!” He retorted angrily.

Potter shrank slightly in recourse. “Oh. I didn’t think of that. Albus says that Scorpius misses you greatly and is concerned about him.” He explained.

Draco could feel himself starting to crumble. He longed for his home and the bottles waiting for him. “I don’t want to be away from him. I want to keep him from the burden of being a Malfoy.” He slumped his shoulders, afraid he had made a mistake in keeping his son away.

“No, I understand. The media has never left either of us alone, have they?” Potter pointed out gravely.

“Not even after over twenty years passing.” Draco agreed with grievance in his voice.

“Um the thing is Scorpius has asked Albus if he could join us for the Christmas holiday. We will be going to the Burrow with Ron and Herminone and their kids for Christmas. It would be a great chance for him to properly spend time with the Weasley-Potter clan. Inner-house unity and all.” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “I think he is afraid to ask you, really. I think he senses something is wrong.” Potter spoke tentatively.

Draco’s face softened for a moment; the fire quickly extinguished. He hated that his son felt that he couldn’t come to him just like with his own father. He was making the same dire mistakes of his father, after all. It took him a few moments to realize Potter was staring at him. A frown played on his lips.

“What?” He snapped, perturbed by the way the man studied him so intently. It was unnerving. 

Potter opened his mouth to say something and then shut it, thinking better of it. He had a contemplative look on his face. “You can come too, if you’d like.” He said after a few moments.

Draco scuffed. “Oh yes. I’m sure the “Weasley clan” would be most obliged to welcome a former Death Eater into their house for Christmas. Happy Christmas one and all.” He rolled his eyes. Something else occurring to him, suddenly. “Decide not to get divorced after all, Potter?” He eyed him curiously. Did they change their minds? An unfamiliar, unsettling feeling made his stomach churn with discomfort.

Potter sighed. “I was hoping that after twenty years we could all just...get along, at least for our children’s sake but you are probably right.” He stated. He sounded so sad Draco had to bite back a smirk. Potter’s eyes widened at the second part as though caught off-guard by the question. “Oh no, it was final when I ran into you. We are still great friends. Not all divorces are tragic, Draco.” He said with a hint of a smile. 

A sigh of relief escaped Draco’s lips before he realized what he was doing. 

“You seem relieved by my singlehood.” Potter pointed out with a cheeky grin.

“I--err what?” Draco sputtered out. “Unlike the rest of the world I am not remotely interested in your personal life.” He spat out.

Potter met him with irritating silence.

“Right. Well I see no harm in Scorpius spending Christmas with your lot.” He wasn’t going to keep his son from them. “I will owl Scorpius and let him know.” He added quickly. 

Potter smiled, his stature easing a bit. “Good.” 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a funeral to endure.” Draco added before Potter tried something funny again. _The war made him delusional._ He thought it himself.

He turned and strode back inside, leaving Potter behind him. He could have sworn he heard a pop sound soon after he departed. Draco paused at the door, his heart racing in his chest. He scowled in irritation. _He still knows exactly how to get under my skin._

Draco spent Christmas and New Years in drunken seclusion. Scorpius and he owled often during break. He was having a great time at the Burrow and evidently thought Potter was brilliant. This aggregated Draco far more than he fancied admitting. He couldn’t seem to get the irritating wizard out of his head for reasons that he couldn’t begin to fathom.

Months passed and the snow began to melt and the chill of winter started to fade. The birds chirped in the morning, or so Draco assumed. He was never up before 2 P.M. Thank Merlin for Crystal or the Malfoy Manor would have fallen into disarray. The spring holiday at Hogwarts was approaching quickly and Draco was nervous about him visiting for the first time in the three years of Scorpius being at Hogwarts. How could he be a father and role model to his son when he could barely keep himself together?

He groaned as he rolled onto his side and grabbed the hangover potion. He drank it down quickly and then chased it with some leftover rum from one of the bottles lying on the table. He still couldn’t muster up the courage to sleep in the bed he once shared with Astoria.

Just as he sat up an owl arrived. He took the message and cheekily offered the owl a drink of the rum bottle as a treat. The owl squawked at him in annoyance and flew off in a flurry of ruffled feathers. Draco smirked to himself. 

His face fell once he opened the message.

_Dear dad,_

_Hello! How are you? Things are great! I love Hogwarts! I can’t believe the year is ending soon. It’s already April!_

_I was wondering could we have Albus over for the Easter holidays? Albus is asking his dad too!_

_-Scorpius_

_Fuck._ He would have not one but two nosy adolescents there. Why did they want to come here anyway? There were a thousand Weasleys to play with at the Burrow. The Malfoy Manor lacked entertainment and he was not about to take the teenage boys out and about. He had no intention of ever leaving the Malfoy Manor again. He also knew did not have a valid reason to say no.

He took another swig from the bottle and then stood to his feet to find a parchment to reply. He wavered where he stood. When was the last time he ate? He couldn’t recall. He hadn’t taken a step further when another owl arrived.

_Dear Draco,_

_Can we meet to talk about the Easter holiday?_

_-Harry_

He growled as he balled up the parchment and threw it behind the couch. The owl waited expectedly for a reply. He glared at him for a moment before heading into his study and grabbed a quill and parchment. He scratched a simple response. 

_No._

He gave it to the owl so that he would leave him be. He returned to the couch and sat down. He downed more of the contents of the bottle, astutely aware that he was soon going to have to retrieve some more.

A loud noise caused him to jump to his feet quickly. The bottle of rum dropped from his hand. When it crashed to the ground, the bottle and its contents splattered all over the floor. Draco turned toward the culprit, scowling when he realized it was Potter.

“What in Salazar’s name are you doing?” He hissed out.

“As head Auror I felt obligated to come uninvited to your home.” Potter replied with a cocky smile.

Draco glowered at him but was unable to come up with a reply. Crystal came out immediately and started to clean up the mess. She stared at Potter with contempt as though she blamed him even though she was not present for the spill.

Draco nearly smiled as he plopped down on the couch. He ignored his house-elf entirely as he reached for another bottle and tipped it back. He frowned upon realizing it was empty. 

“Draco....you look awful.” Potter unwisely stated.

“Fuck off.” Draco barked.

“Does master need me to get rid of this...intruder?” Crystal asked Draco.

He considered it but quickly decided against it. “No, it is alright.” He said. “When you are done fetch me a few more bottles of rum.” He added.

Moving from the couch was unnecessary. 

“Merlin’s beard, Draco. Have you seen yourself lately? I can’t have Albus here. You shouldn’t even have Scorpius here.” He lectured.

Draco practically flew off the couch with a jolt of energy he didn’t know he had. “Now look here, Potter…” He spat out once he approached the other man.

He could hear Potter speaking but it all became fuzzy in his mind as he swayed unsteadily. The next thing he knew; he was encompassed in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think of the story so far!


	4. Chapter 4

Draco groaned as he woke from a deep slumber he didn’t recall slipping into. He rolled onto his side to grab the hangover potion without bothering to open his eyes. Instead of a bottle he felt a soft surface. His eyes jolted open despite the light burning into his retinas. He stared at the surface beneath him. He was in a bed but it was not the one he shared with his late wife. It was not nearly soft enough and the covers were a royal blue. The fabric was not cheap but certainly not extravagant. He may have fallen from the good graces of his family but he maintained refined taste.

His raised his head finally and glanced around. He was surrounded by beige walls and worn dark wooden floors. There was an old, mahogany, antique dresser in front of him that did not match the rest of the room. He glanced to his right and spotted an open closet with chestnut coloured doors. It didn’t match either. He wrinkled his nose in utter contempt. _Where am I?_

Just then a house-elf unexpectedly appeared at the doorway like a ghost with a tray of food. Confusion washed over him. He never saw him before in his life.

His eyes gleamed at Draco in awe. “Master Malfoy...what an honour to meet you. Kreacher thought that Master was pulling his leg when he said to see to you. I see now that he was not!”

“Right. I demand to know _who_ you are and _where_ might I be!” He barked out, irritated by the house-elf’s greeting. _Why did he call him Master?_

“I am Kreacher, servant to Master Potter. This is the filthy blood traitor, Master Potter’s house. He sent for me from Hogwarts so that I may have the honor of serving the great Master Malfoy, a true pure-blood unlike Master Potter who taints this house with Mudbloods and blood traitors.” 

Draco’s jaw dropped at the words that spewed out of the house-elf’s mouth. It was the sort of thing he heard all the time at the Malfoy Manor growing up but in this mismatched room it seemed as out of place as the furniture itself. 

He blinked. “Potter?” He asked in a dazed voice.

“Yes, Master. The blood traitor Master sent Kreacher to bring Master Malfoy, a true Pureblood, and relative to the Black family, breakfast.” He recited.

Draco was still trying to take all of it in as Kreacher brought him the tray of food and set it in front of him. On the plate there was scrambled eggs, bacon, and a cup of hot tea. 

He stared at it blankly, “Uh, thanks.” He murmured. 

Despite looking delicious, his stomach churned at the sight of it. He wrinkled his nose, wondering where the toilets were. 

“I know. It is a disgrace. Kreacher would have been honoured to cook for Master Malfoy but Master Potter insisted on insulting you by making it himself.” The house-elf cut in. 

Draco perked a brow. “He did?” He incredulously replied. _Why would he do that?_

“I did.” A voice answered at the doorway. “You may go clean the kitchen now and not spy on our conversation.” Potter instructed Kreacher.

“Yes Master.” Draco could hear the house-elf grumbling as he left.

He stared after him with wide eyes and then his grey gaze fell on Potter. “What am I doing here?” He asked with more bite than intended.

Potter stared at him with a stony expression. “You don’t remember?” He asked evenly.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I did.” He snapped. He did not like to be kept in the dark about things.

“You fainted and then I brought you here. Hermione thought I ought to take you to St. Mungo’s but I thought it might be better to bring you here. Send for a doctor if necessary. The more out of the spotlight you are the better.” Potter explained with reluctance in his voice. 

It took a few moments for it to properly register in Draco’s mind. He had so many questions but not one iota of a clue where to begin.

“Why was Granger here?” He finally asked.

Potter’s lips formed a thin line in obvious annoyance at the question. “As Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Enforcement it was imperative that I report any relocation of a Malfoy.” It was obvious that it was previously recited to him.

Draco blinked. “They are keeping track of me?” He gritted his teeth in annoyance. “Of course they are. Former Death Eater, even if unwilling, must be tracked despite the fact that the war was over twenty years ago.” He snarled.

Potter shot him an exasperated glance. “She was doing her job. Neither of us made the rules.” He retorted. “Besides that, she’s brilliant. If anyone could treat you without sending you to the hospital, it’s her.” He proudly stated like the insufferable twat he was.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Right and you wanted to keep me out of the public eye…” He repeated. “Why might that be?” He pried, taking note of Potter’s guilty expression. 

“Well, word of my visitation to your father’s funeral uh spread and well, it did not show you in a positive light.” He spoke carefully. His hand fumbled in his lap as he fidgeted where he stood.

Draco scuffed. “Of course. Saint Potter can do no wrong.” He bitterly spat. “So kind of you to try to spare me the negative reprieve of the public.” His words were dripping with sarcasm.

He stared at his food wondering if it had been cursed. It wasn’t as though anyone cared if he died. They wouldn’t even investigate.

“I didn’t poison your food, Malfoy. So just eat it.” Potter’s tone snatched him from his thoughts.

There was a fierceness in his emerald gaze and a bite in his tongue. For the first time he spoke to him the same way as he had when they were in school. His stomach twisted like a pretzel. He glanced at his food and then to Potter.

“Thank you.” He said simply and started to slowly consume his food.

When he finally lifted his head, Potter was still standing there gaping open like he’d been stupefied, refusing to meet his gaze. Draco perked a brow and then began to eat again. He eventually heard retreating footsteps. _Thank god._ It was weird enough being in Potter’s home without him hovering over him. After he finished eating, he took a nap. 

_His whole body trembled as his wand pointed at the wide-eyed, frail man knelt before him in the dank, damp dungeon._

_“This will be good practice for when we need your services later.” A voice hissed from everywhere all at once. Draco inwardly shuddered, hesitating._

_“Do it or you will feel my wrath.” Fury was evident even though he hadn’t raised his voice._

_The hair on Draco’s neck raised like the Inferi when summoned. Yet he still could not utter a word._

" _Crucio!” The Dark Lord’s voice radiated through the walls._

_Draco dropped his wand and crumpled to the ground. Agony radiated through him like thousands of knives stabbing him and set on fire all at once. Draco’s screams filled the dungeon and echoed throughout the house. He found himself praying that the Dark Lord would end his life once and for all._

_His body was still quivering with waves of aftershocks once the pain abruptly stopped. Draco curled into a ball but wouldn’t allow himself to cry. He couldn’t show weakness now._

" _Get up.” The Dark Lord crassly stated._

_Draco had no idea how but he found himself on his feet again, though wavering where he stood._

_“Pick up your wand.” The Lord Demanded._

_Shakily, Draco bent over and picked up his wand._

_“Let’s try this again, shall we? Perform the Crucius Curse on this traitor.”_

_He held his wand too tight in his hand as he pointed it at the broken man openly weeping before him. “Cru—cru” The rest of the curse tangled in his tongue, leaving him unable to continue._

_“Crucio!” Voldemort’s voice vibrated through the room._

_Draco fell to his knees once again and darkness enveloped him like a Raven's wings, swallowing him whole._

Fire danced on his skin, piercing him with icy rage that burned. Estranged screams engulfed the air. He felt like his body was being ripped apart limb for limb as hands laid on his shoulders. His body shuddered; the shrieks never slowed. His eyes shot open and he saw the depths of darkness swirling around him.

“Draco...Draco...It’s OK. Draco.” The voice was distant at first.

Slowly, the space between them lessened and he opened his eyes for real this time.

“Harry?” He croaked out; his mouth was like sandpaper. 

“It’s OK. You’re safe now.” Harry’s voice was oddly soothing. 

Draco was soaking wet with sweat and his body felt like it was still tingling with the aftershocks of the Unforgivable Curse. Without a second thought he threw his hands around Harry and sobbed loudly into his arms. 

“Shh shh.” He soothed without judgement.

Finally, Draco pulled back and wiped his eyes. He sat up straight with what little dignity he had left. He gazed out the window, taking note of the fact that it was nearing dusk. His pale skin reddened as he felt eyes on him. He turned toward Potter, who had sat down beside him, with narrowed eyes, daring him to say a word.

His face crumpled at the other man’s all too familiar, haunted look in his eyes. _He knows._ Potter had been through it himself. Their eyes bore into each other’s with a sense of understanding and empathy they had never outwardly shared before.

Finally, Potter glanced away as though he had stared at the sun too long. He seemed to know better than to ask if Draco was OK. He knew he wasn’t. Were either one of them actually OK even though the war ended over twenty years ago?

Harry wordlessly reached for Draco’s hand and squeezed it gently. His own sweaty hand returned it as they remained in comfortable silence until Draco fell asleep again.

Later that evening, Draco managed to make it to the table to eat dinner like a civilized person, even though Potter had to help him get there. He was still in a weakened state.

Sometime during dinner, Hannah Abbot, a Hufflepuff from their grade, visited to do a proper checkup of Draco. 

“What about your job as Matron at Hogwarts?” Potter inquired as Draco focused on devouring his food while retaining a sense of dignity.

“Madam Pomfrey was more than happy to temporarily return from retirement to help out. Apparently, she is bored out of her wits!” Hannah exclaimed with a bit of a laugh.

Draco refrained from letting out a snort. When he glanced up Hannah was staring back at him with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. He bit back a scowl.

After he finished eating; Potter helped him to the couch so that Hannah could check him out more thoroughly. Draco glowered at him but didn’t object to the help. Hannah brought along supplies that were both magical and muggle origin. A frown creased his features at the different, unfamiliar contraptions used and tests performed on him. Hannah took periodic notes on a chart. He was even weighed with a muggle scale.

Once she finished, she went over her notes in silence, her brows furrowed in concentration. 

“Draco—you are severely malnourished and suffering from Alcohol withdrawal. Both are dangerous and it’s lucky that Harry was there when you passed out.” Her scolding tone was reminiscent of Madam Pomphrey back at Hogwarts.

Draco snorted, “Saint Potter to the rescue again.” Though his words lacked his usual fire. 

Hannah ignored him. “You will have to take a potion daily for two weeks to revitalize your nutrition. For a month you need to take a second potion to help you gain some weight. The final potion is for alcohol withdrawal. This one is essential. You must follow these instructions to the tee so that you will not go into shock from lack of alcohol in your system.” She frowned. “Given your...state; I suggest someone stay with you.” She bit down on her lip, expecting resistance.

Draco did not disappoint. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. “Excuse me. I hardly need a babysitter first of all. Second, I do not have an alcohol problem. I do not need potions for some withdrawal nonsense. Third, I have always been slender and I shouldn’t be penalized for it by being forced to fatten up.”

“Draco you are underweight…” Hannah started to interject and then fell quiet, seemingly still intimidated by Draco’s verbal rampages.

A snort escaped Potter’s lips. “Are you done yet, Draco?” He rolled his eyes like he was some insolent child. “You will stay here and take your potions even if I have to hold you down myself. If you won’t do it for yourself—do it for your son!” Potter lectured.

Even Draco had to admit he made sense but he was not about to be babysat by the chosen one of all people. He attempted to stand and failed. _Fuck._ He inwardly cursed.

“Why you, Potter? And don’t give me that dragon dung about caring about me. You don’t care about me and you never did! You were always the savior and I was the villainous Slytherin turned Death Eater! You precious Gryffindors were the pets of the school while the rest of us were forgotten or villainized!” He turned to Hannah. “Admit it! You know it is true!” He inwardly cringed at how he sounded but Potter brought old grudges to the surface.

Silence filled the room before Hannah spoke. “Draco has a point. You and your house were favored and well, everyone else, especially Hufflepuffs were forgotten.” She admitted in a small voice. “And we were mean sometimes to Slytherin. Like our first year when Gryffindor received all of those extra points for achievements and bumped Slytherin to last. We all cheered for it. Even though they were mean bullies—” She shot Draco a reproachful look. “We weren’t right either. We never did give any of them a chance to be anything but villains. Maybe if we showed kindness, we could have made a difference.” She trailed off, silencing herself again.

It was the most Draco ever heard her talk. He glanced at Potter to see if the Chosen one could possibly comprehend anything past his own nose. Potter’s lips were pursed in thought and his brows were furrowed in an irritatingly endearing way. 

After a pregnant pause, he spoke in a quiet tone. “You’re right. We were short-sighted. Especially me. We should have bad more recognition for other houses as well—though much of that...fell on staff themselves.” His face became clouded in darkness a moment. Just as quickly it cleared again. “I should have done more to help Draco out of his dire situation. We should have been more understanding of how Slytherins were treated like the slugs Ron threw up when his wand backed up.” He paused; his gaze was directly on Draco. “But the reason Ron’s wand backfired was because he was defending Hermione when you called her a Mudblood. You and your lot antagonized us at every given turn. We could have taken the high road but we were just kids. Still. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t help you before it was too late.” Potter finished.

Draco sat, jaw ajar, stunned. He never thought he’d see the day that Saint Potter would admit fault, let alone apologize. Once the shock wore off, he allowed the words to mull around in his mind. He also made good points. They were horrible. He was a bully and did awful things to other students. He belittled them over the pureblood elitist nonsense that was hammered in his brain since birth. 

“I’m sorry too.” Draco said; his voice was hoarse. “I did and said horrible things to everyone. Unspeakable things. I joined the wrong side in the war. You couldn’t have saved me, Potter. I am the reason…” He trailed off. 

He couldn’t bear to say it even though it haunted his memories, even now. Snape, his wand and Dumbledore falling...falling...falling into the abyss. Tears rolled down his cheeks, unable to say more. He glanced down, not wanting to know what their expressions held.

He was met with suffocating silence for several moments. Just when he thought it would drive him to madness, Hannah spoke up.

“I forgive you, Draco.” She said finally. 

He glanced up in shock. Her features softened considerably. She gave him a tiny smile.

Draco didn’t get the chance to speak before the person he secretly was aching to hear from spoke. “I forgave you ages ago, Draco. After the war I realized how trapped you were and how you too suffered from misery. You may have gone about it wrong but we were both miserable and took it out on each other. You had the extra pressure of being what your parents expected of you and I had the weight of a prophecy I never chose or wanted on my shoulders. We were all victims of house segregation and animosity. But true power lies in being able to forgive and move on.” 

Hannah nodded her head in agreement. Even Draco had to admit that Potter had a way with words. He was a leader through and through. Flawed as he may be; he somehow, despite the poison of fate and the cruelty of war, believed in the good of others. He once again found him secretly envious of the man.

“I forgive you too. For villainizing the Slytherin house.” He spoke to both of them. Then he glanced at Potter. “I forgive you, Harry Potter, for…well, fucking everything.” Their rivalry was long and damaging. It seemed senseless to bring it all up.

Potter stared at him, obviously touched by his less than eloquent apology. “Thank you.” He said after a moment.

They remained there, awkwardly trying to find a new topic.

Draco sighed audibly. “Fine. I’ll stay here and let Potter take care of me.” He spoke begrudgingly but there was a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “As long as we stop with this happy sappy nonsense.” He added, unable to keep from smirking now.

Hannah and Potter laughed with him. 

“Deal.” They both agreed. Draco thought he saw relief written on their faces.

“And it’s Harry, Draco. Call me Harry.” His emerald eyes fixated on Draco’s steadily. Flashbacks of Harry holding his hand after his night terror came rushing back to him. Draco stared back at him with his icy grey gaze. 

Draco turned away first, ears ablaze. He tried to ignore Hannah’s curious expression as she glanced between them.

“I shall try.” He said finally. It was the best he could do.

Hannah finally left after leaving all the Instructions and potions that were needed. 

Draco relaxed on the sofa, exhausted in all capacities. Harry came to sit down next down him with a contemplative expression. _Now what?_ Draco couldn’t help but wonder. He stared at his pale hands as though they were exquisite works of art.

“Did you mean it? All of that?” Harry finally cut through the silence.

Draco bit back a snarky reply before responding. “Yes, I did...Harry.”

He glanced up at him and saw the most irritatingly endearing, wondrous smile light up Harry’s features. Then, the weirdest thing of all occurred. Draco returned the smile with certain and insane sincerity.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: This chapter and beyond will have some self-harm present/discussed/dealt with.

_A hand laid tightly on each of Draco’s bony shoulders. On one side stood Bellatrix. She dug her fingernails into Draco’s flesh. He struggled to hide agony as she broke the skin. On his opposing side stood Snape. His hand was firm yet protective. Draco’s mother stood nearby; with wide, fear-stricken eyes. Voldemort stood towering over them menacingly. Other Death Eaters jeered from a distance. Yaxley stared at Draco like he was a tasty snack he longed to devour._

_“So. You were the one to kill Dumbledore, after all.” He hissed out; his red-slit gaze focused on Draco even as he addressed Snape._

_“Yes, my lord.” Snape simply replied._

_“And you could not--boy?” He addressed Draco in a condescending tone._

_Dumbstruck, Draco found himself unable to reply._

_“Answer me!” Voldemort boomed through the room. The Death Eaters shuddered for they knew his wrath all too well._

_Bellatrix dug her nails in deeper. “No, My Lord.” Draco tried to keep the shakiness out of his voice._

_A cruel smile contorted Voldemort’s face. “Yes. A failure and a coward like his father. A pity.”_

_“You knew he would fail! You did it to punish Lucian!” Narcissa screeched out._

_Draco didn’t dare to look her way but he could imagine the wildness in her eyes._

_“Silence!” Voldemort’s voice exploded like thunder._

_Draco dared to peak toward his mother now, watching her shrink back into herself._

" _Now. Luckily, Severus was able to go through with the task. I never doubted him for a moment.” Voldemort regarded the boy before continuing. “Draco did let them in. That works in your favor, boy.”_

D _raco chewed on this lower lip. The fear of being punished for failing to finish what he started, filled him with foreboding dread._

_“Perhaps it is on the mother for the failures of her son. A son so unwilling to kill for me.” He hissed._

_Draco’s eyes widened. He was not going to allow his mother to suffer for his own inability to kill Dumbledore. “N-no it’s on me, My Lord.” Draco squeaked finally._

_Voldemort seemed to contemplate this. The air was thick with tension. Finally, he sent a horrible, sadistic smile toward Draco. He turned and pointed his wand at his mother. “Crucio!” He yelled out._

_She crumpled to the floor, her body contorting in unnatural ways. She screeched like a banshee, as her eyes bulged out. Her screams melded into Draco’s as he tried to unsuccessfully lunge himself forward. The hold on his shoulders were too strong._ _His world turned black as the memory faded._

_A new memory sprang to life within his subconscious mind. He was in the dungeon again, this time only with his cousin Bellatrix and a filthy muggle that was magically chained to the wall. He wore a black, well-tailored Muggle suit. His sandy brown hair was cropped close to his head. Although he was unwashed now; Draco had a feeling that he normally used Muggle chemicals to keep it in place. The Muggle’s fearful blue eyes were fixated on him. Under the Imperius curse, his body became a slave to his aunt. The filthy muggle’s marble skin glowed against light of Draco’s wand beneath the caked-on dirt. He realized then that he didn’t look older than he was._

_“Kill him, Draco.” Bellatrix hissed, interrupting Draco’s thoughts. “Kill the filthy Muggle!”_

_Draco let out a shuddering breath, hesitating._

_“Crucio” Bellatrix shrieked out as she pointed her wand at him menacingly._

_Draco fell to the ground, twinging in agony, his screams echoed through the dungeon._

_“Weak!” Bellatrix’s voice full of malicious madness. She pointed to Draco, “Silencio!”_

_He went silent immediately. He could still feel the aftershocks radiate through him._

_“Better. Now listen here, Draco. This muggle is why you suffered. They are...nothing...animals! Soulless pieces of meat!” She screeched. “Kill the meat!”_

_Draco struggled to his feet, his face reddening with fury as he faced the heap quivering in fear on the ground. This filthy Muggle was the cause of his pain. He had no doubt about that but he did not want to kill him._

_“Crucio!” The charm hadn’t worn off yet so Draco crumpled to the floor in silence. The charm hadn’t worn off yet even as his face twisted in an almost inhumane way._

_“This…thing! This disgrace is doing this to you! Kill it! End your suffering!” She shouted. “End it!”_

_His nostrils flared with fury; his grey eyes burned ice cold as he mastered every bit of hatred in him. Draco pulled himself to his feet and picked up the wand he hadn’t realized he dropped. He inwardly cursed his father, The Dark Lord, Snape, the filthy muggle, Dumbledore, Harry Potter, and most of all, himself, for being here, forced to torture and kill against his will._

_Something snapped and he inwardly screamed, as he bellowed out, “Avada Kedavra_ _!” A green light shone from his wand and the Muggle went still._

_Draco collapsed to the ground, utterly broken, exhausted and horrified by what he had done._

_“Good, Draco. The Dark Lord will be most pleased by your progress.” Bellatrix praised him._

_Draco swallowed the bile threatening to come up, as he sat there, his gaze unable to leave the dead Muggle. Didn’t every life matter? Tears brimmed in his eyes, and he was for once, thankful for the darkness._

_When Bellatrix stared down at him, he forced himself to wear a satisfied sneer, just in case._

Draco woke with a start, sweating profusely. He sat up quickly, wiping the tears from his eyes. He had been having nightmares for weeks now. He knew it had to do with the lack of alcohol and potion of dreamless sleep, both of which he had depended on for the last twenty years. He shuddered to himself. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. 

He broke down into rasping sobs, his breaths only coming out in bursts. Maybe Potter intended on slowly killing him after all. As though his thoughts summoned him; Harry rushed in and swooped Draco in his arms, without hesitation this time. 

“Another nightmare?” Sympathy laced his tone.

Draco found himself unable to respond. 

“Deep breaths in and small ones out.” Harry softly soothed.

Draco immediately did what he was told. After several moments, he started to breath normal again. He clung to Harry even as he calmed, his widened eyes darting around frantically. He could still feel the Dark Lord, haunting him even though he only existed in his nightmares.

Harry hushed him as he held onto him and petted his long, white blond locks. “You’re safe.” He repeatedly stated.

Finally, Draco buried his head in Harry’s shoulder and sobbed, releasing more of the trauma that he repressed for over twenty years.

Harry held him, patient and consoling until Draco finally pulled himself away. Despite the mix of potions and eating normal meals; dark circles pooled under his eyes and his skin was a grayish tint. His eyes were bloodshot from crying and his hair laid limp past his shoulders. He hadn’t bothered to cut it. Harry seemed to be taking this in for the thousandth time, a frown playing on his lips. 

“You need a mind healer, Draco. I-I can only help so much. You can’t drink or use potions to repress this any longer.” He said carefully.

Draco had vehemently opposed this suggestion many times before. This time, he simply sighed, nodding, too weary and broken to refute it.

Harry’s brows rose in surprise, his wide emerald gaze studying Draco, shocked. “Right then. I’ll make the arrangements. Kreacher will bring in your breakfast shortly.”

His gaze lingered even as he stood. He seemed hesitant to leave. Finally, he turned and exited the room. Shakily, he grabbed his wand and pulled up his silk white nightgown. 

He pointed his wand to his upper left thigh. “Diffindo.” He said softly. 

A new angry mark sliced into his pale skin. He closed his eyes as he hissed in pain. Many other healing scars were healing around it. He bit down on his lip as the agony rolled through him in waves. At the same time, he felt relief from the war that raged inside of him.

He cleaned the wound in the bathroom and then showered and dressed himself. Kreacher soon strolled in with breakfast.

“Here you are, Master Malfoy. A proper English breakfast.” He croaked out.

“Thank you.” Draco said evenly as he took it from the house-elf.

He glared at it, not particularly eager to consume food. He knew he had to. At Hogwarts, final exams had just finished and the end feast was only days away. Scorpius was due home after that. As much as he missed his son; he knew he was far from able to be a proper father to him in this state. He made a note to discuss it with Harry.

He wasn’t entirely certain of the arrangement he had with Ginny as far as his own brood was concerned but he figured Harry could help come up with some sort of plan. He forced down half of the meal before giving up and summoning Kreacher to take it away.

He stared at the page of the book absently, trying to make sense of it. Harry had Kreacher bring a bunch of his alchemical manuscripts over from the Manor, a gesture Draco greatly appreciated. Now that he sat in at a desk, pouring over the pages, the words bled together. He shuddered, recalling the dream he had the night before.

His thoughts swirled around him endlessly and his stomach twisted into a pretzel as sweat prickled on his forehead.

He jumped at the knock on the door, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Come in.” He weakly stated.

Harry opened the door, clearly about to say something but stopped. He rushed over to his side and knelt beside him. 

“Draco?” He spoke softly. His brows furrowed with worry. 

“I’m fine.” He lied meekly.

Harry’s green eyes bore into his icy gaze and melted him.

“I can’t. I can’t—“ Draco faltered. He had no idea how to finish the sentence.

Harry pulled him into a hug and held him as unexpected tears rolled down Draco’s cheeks. 

“What is your fucking angle, Harry? I accept that you forgive me but...this...this…” He trailed off, breaking down into sobs again. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve it.” 

If possible, he seemed to pull Draco in tighter. “You deserve mercy, Draco Malfoy. You do.” He purred softly into his ear. 

He shivered without feeling the least bit cold. Something was washing over him that he couldn’t pinpoint. It was something he had felt before yet he went cold once Astoria had died, taking any reminisce of warmth with him.

As he leaned his head against Harry’s neck; there was a spark that lit inside of him. It was dim but it was slowly brightening. They stayed like that for a bit longer before Harry finally pulled back and stood to his feet, a peculiar glint in his eyes as they stared at each other for several moments. 

“Let’s go to the sitting room?” Harry croaked out.

“Yes, Let’s.” Draco agreed as he stood. 

Silently they left the study together and went to sit down on the couch.

“What is going on?” Harry asked him.

All Draco could think of was how close in proximity he was.

“Draco?” 

He snapped himself out of it and shrugged. “Nothing. It’s fine.” He insisted. 

Harry gritted his teeth, “Fine. I’ll leave it to the mind healers then.” He irritably pinched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb.

Draco hung his head, silent.

“What are we going to do about our sons?” Harry cut through the awkwardness like a sharpened blade.

“What do you mean?” Draco asked, feigning innocence. 

Harry rolled his eyes at him in a way that reminded him of when they were kids. 

“Well, you aren’t exactly of sound mind to care for Scorpius nor do I want my kids to see—”

Draco was already on his feet, though he was swaying slightly. “Look here, Potter! Don’t tell me what to do! I am a Malfoy and we don’t take orders we give them!” His earlier plan to ask for advice all but flew out the window and was replaced with ego and indignation.

When he looked back at the man, he was smirking. _How dare he mock a Malfoy_?

“What?” He hissed.

“I guess you are feeling a bit better.” Harry said finally with a bit of a laugh.

Draco opened his mouth to object and then shut it again. Instead he joined him as he laughed. For a moment Draco almost felt normal, albeit his worst self. Harry had a knack for bringing it out of him, after all.

He sighed and sat back down. This time Harry remained silent. 

“You’re right.” Draco said finally. “Neither your kids nor mine should deal with this. I will go home and perhaps—Scorpius stay with you lot?” He suggested.

Harry immediately shook his head. “No. I’m not leaving you alone. Not again. Maybe for the time being they can stay with Ginny. I will have to explain the situation to some extent.” He studied Draco closely.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh, that would go famously. Oh, by the way, I’m helping Draco, the former death eater, so can you take his and our kids for the summer?” 

Harry fidgeted nervously. “She’ll understand once she sees you.” 

His eyes widened in shock. “Ginny Weasley and me in the same room?” He cried out. “You realize my father is the one who gave her the journal?”

“Yes, but that wasn’t you.” He said simply. “You aren’t the same prejudged bully you used to be and you were never evil.” 

“This begs to differ.” Draco pulled up his sleeve, revealing the Death Mark still visible on his arm.

Harry furrowed his brows. “That wasn’t your choice.” 

“Wasn’t it, though?” He shook his head. “I appreciate your help but I just...I cannot—I must return home and get ready for my son. I will go to the mind healers but I refuse to be dependent on anyone else.” 

“Fine.” Harry spat out. “At least stay one more day. You look awful.” 

Draco almost smiled. “You have yourself a deal.”

In the middle of the night, Draco awoke abruptly to the sound of someone screaming. Drowsily he pulled himself out of bed and made his way down the hallway. He was feeling faint but he felt much better than he did in the afternoon.

Once close enough, he realized that it was Harry’s voice and rushed into the bedroom quickly, his heart pounding in alarm, his gaze narrowing in on the other man’s thrashing form. 

He approached his side tentatively, uncertain of how to comfort him. It seemed to come naturally to Harry but he was far less accustomed to it. Astoria was the affectionate, nurturing one. 

“Harry,” His voice came out raspy. “Harry...it’s OK. It’s Draco. Not sure if that is reassuring but…here I am.”

He seemed to respond to his voice within his subconscious mind. “Draco...Draco...I owe you everything...don’t die…” Harry murmured.

He paled. _Is he awake_? He leaned forward to get a better look at his eyes. No, they were closed. 

“I won’t die. I promise.” Draco responded, on some level hoping he heard him.

He knew he could easily enter his but he would not invade the other man’s privacy like that.

“You saved me…you saved me.” Potter spoke after a few moments.

He chuckled despite himself. “Now Potter, I think it’s the other way around.” He replied, almost forgetting the other man was asleep.

Harry shook his head furiously in a way that urged Draco to instinctively grab his hand and squeeze it tightly. Harry’s body tensed a moment and then relaxed considerably.

“No. Now. Now you’ve saved me.” He whispered.

Draco’s eyes widened. Coming from Harry, even if it was only while he was dreaming, seemed unfathomable. 

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.” 

There was no answer. He waited a few moments before carefully pulling his hand away. He froze when Harry reached out, grabbed his hand back, and squeezed it. He glanced back at him, surprised to see his emerald gaze staring back at him.

“Stay with me.” Harry said in a meek voice that he did not recognize. “Please.” He urged.

“Uh…OK.” He awkwardly replied. “Scoot over, then. Can’t expect me to stand over you like a House-elf.” Draco managed to smile.

“Tsk. Still a bloody Malfoy.” He let go of his hand and scooted over. “Come on then but don’t you dare hog the covers.” 

Draco gaped at him, stunned. He was kidding! At least he thought he was. _I cannot possibly get in bed with him. It is awkward and I am not gay._ His brows furrowed, inwardly conflicted. 

“Please?” Harry pleaded.

“I was kidding…” He reiterated. _He couldn’t possibly—-_

“Please.” Harry’s plea cut off his thoughts. 

Draco studied him closer and noticed the bloodshot eyes and the tears staining his cheeks. Draco’s shoulders dropped, his mind racing as he took in the fact that the famous Boy Who Lived, who saved them from The Dark Lord, didn't just understand Draco's plight, but was just as ravaged by the war they fought when they were just teenagers. 

Without another thought, he crawled in bed next to Harry and pulled the covers up to his chin. He fell into a dreamless slumber, his hand, sometime during the night, finding Harry’s once again.


End file.
